


One day at a time

by CaffTac



Category: No More Heroes (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-04 03:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffTac/pseuds/CaffTac
Summary: Travis and Badman getting to know each other, since they're going to be spending the next 6 weeks living together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written with a lot of help from @orangecreams and @hellrnaster, who contributed a lot of the plot ideas.

This downtime was fucking killing him.

7 years of constant moving, trying to stay ahead of Smith, tracking down leads on Touchdown, even if none of them ever came to anything other than wearing his boots out. Snatches of rest caught here and there when he’d exhausted himself from days on end of what mostly just felt like _surviving_ were being paid back in full now. And even though it surprised him a little, there was only so much beer you could drink or practice swings you could take before you felt like climbing the walls. The unnatural stillness of the woods was what got to him first, honestly. Shigeki had always been a city boy, when it came down to it. Decades of white noise had spoiled him, and now that he actually had the time to sleep without a boss or an assassin breathing down his neck, most nights he was lucky if he shut his eyes before dawn. When Travis was there, he’d usually be up into the wee hours of the morning with some chiptune or another blasting out of his tv, loud enough for Shigeki to hear even from his bedroll outside. Depending on what was playing, the noise would distract him enough to fall into a dead sleep, even without the help of his old standby, HomeRun lager. The constant noise kept him grounded. But now, with only the sounds of bugs and the wind in the trees to keep him company, it was easy for him to understand how someone could go crazy from being alone in the woods too long. Getting stuck in their own head.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the thought, and he clapped a gloved hand over them. Enough of that. There had to be _something_ he could do. Travis had told him, almost a week ago, that he’d be gone at least a few days looking for the next Death Ball game. Assuming the obnoxious little bastard wasn’t out fucking around on his shitty motorcycle, there shouldn’t be much more time to kill, and Badman could start smashing heads for a few hours and stop being alone with his thoughts.

Hauling himself off the hood of his car, he started taking inventory of the clearing. Or Travis’ front yard, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. Some beer cans abandoned next to the firepit. Sleeping bag in a tangled pile. What few spare shirts he had hanging out of the trunk of the car.

Christ, he hadn’t even bothered getting dressed today, and it was almost 4. It was still hard to take care of himself some days, even 7 years out. Not shaving, not brushing his teeth, hell, he hadn’t even taken a damn shower since before Smith broke his goddamn door down. Travis had offered him the use of the shower and bathroom, after they fell back out of Electric Thunder Tiger II and realized how much shit they still had to do. He’d said he could bring his stuff inside, too, but Badman wasn’t quite ready to think about actually cohabitating with the guy. Even though Travis was helping him play through the games to revive Charlotte, and enthusiastically, Shigeki couldn’t help the guilt that welled up in him when he thought of being all buddy-buddy with her killer.

The cleaning was done almost before he realized he’d started. Cans in a garbage bag in the backseat, shirts put back in the trunk, sleeping bag shaken out and tossed in the passenger seat. The bag was fucking rank, if he was totally honest with himself. He looked back at the trailer, weighing the pros and cons between taking up Travis on his hospitality or throwing himself and his laundry in the lake and scrubbing.

He decided to not be fucking ridiculous and grabbed the cheap bar soap he’d bought last time he was in town, along with a clean shirt and boxers. If he was going to be staying here a whole week between each game, he’d need to go back and buy at least one other pair of pants. Socks, too. If he didn’t start taking care of himself again, he was going to smell as bad as Smith had said.

And he didn’t want to look like such a fucking slob when he saw Charlie again. It was the least he could do for her.

He pushed through the door of the trailer, blinking hard in the sudden darkness. He headed to the left, passing where he and Touchdown had beat the living shit out of each other before getting sucked into the Death Drive the week before. He shivered a little at the memory of the creepy monkey bastard dragging him in and walked a little faster to the bathroom.

There were two or three towels stacked up on the back of the toilet, and Shigeki helped himself to one while the shower heated up. On the mirror, previously unnoticed, was a note from Travis: “Hey old man: Vent’s busted, so leave the door open if you use the shower. The shitty white towel goes on the floor so you don’t flood my bathroom when you get out.” Travis had drawn a shitty cartoon of himself doing a peace sign at the bottom. Badman sneered a little and crumpled the note up. Like he didn’t know not to drip water all over the goddamn floor.

He let out a deep sigh when he finally stepped under the hot water, and felt a little tension melt out of his body before lathering up. He wrinkled his nose a little, thinking of how long it’d been since he had a proper shower. Even he could smell the stale cigar smoke and spilled beer on himself, and tried a little harder to work the soap into the thick hair covering his arms and torso. He was rinsing his hair and debating whether or not he should cut it soon when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and a slim body press against his back. Before he could get out more than a “What the hell-”, Travis was actually fucking shushing him.

“Relax, man, it’s just me.” “Yeah, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” He twisted a little, trying to look at Travis, who just rested his chin on Shigeki’s shoulder and looked at him like he was a fool. “I’m showering”, he answered. Getting a better look at him, Shigeki thought he looked like shit. Greasy hair and heavy bags under his eyes told him that Travis probably hadn’t bothered stopping at all on the way back, and from how he was leaning on Shigeki he was about ready to fall over. He wasn’t saying the guy wasn’t good looking, and now that he had calmed down a little he found he didn’t necessarily _hate_ that Travis was touching him, but at the front of his brain he was mostly thinking about making the kid go take a rest.

Mostly.

Maybe he was showing his age.

Travis, as usual, had other ideas, and turned his head to nose at Shigeki’s neck, moving a hand up to squeeze his chest.

Ahh. So that’s what this was about.

He huffed a little, not quite smiling. “Dry spell, touchdown? No time to stop on the way back?” Travis held him a little tighter, and Shigeki took a moment to admire the well-built arms before Travis finally answered, breath tickling his ear. “Nah… Didn’t want to on the way back, but I saw you on the way to my room…” Snark seemed to be beyond Travis right now, not that Shigeki was complaining. If he wanted to sweet talk him a little and cop a feel, well. He wasn’t going to turn him away.

It’d been a while for Shigeki too. Not much time for that on the run. And not that he’d admit it to Touchdown.

Travis started idly tracing some of the tattoos on his shoulder with his free hand, and Shigeki started to relax again. If Touchdown wanted him dead, he could have easily cut him to pieces instead of hopping in the shower with him. Hell, he hadn’t even heard that loud-ass bike pull up.

Right now, though, the water was getting cold. He got Travis’ attention, and raised an eyebrow when Travis startled a little. Had he really dozed off on Shigeki’s shoulder? “Hey. We’re almost out of hot water here. You wanna move this somewhere else?” He didn’t really expect Travis to take him up on it (more expected him to wake up a little, tell him to dry his ass off and go back outside), but he nodded, still half asleep, and reached across to turn the water off. Still keeping his hand splayed out on Badman’s chest, he noticed.

Stepping onto the floor towel and passing another clean one to Travis, he couldn’t resist needling him a little. “Really, Touchdown? Are hairy older men your type?” Travis shrugged a little, noncommittal. They both stood in silence for a few minutes, toweling off. Shigeki didn’t miss Travis’ eyes on him when he thought he wasn’t looking, and realized he’d never really seen Travis with his shades off. Before he could really get a look, though, they were back on. Shigeki rolled his eyes a little, and grabbed his boxers. Paused a moment, not sure if he should bother. Travis had abandoned his clothes on the hall floor outside, except for his sunglasses, and headed towards the bedroom. He decided to leave them off. Who gave a shit, right? They were just in the shower together anyway.

When he got to the bedroom, Travis was already sprawled out on the mattress, covers pulled up to his hips. Looking at him from under his shades, he gave a shitty, tired grin. “Hey. Thought maybe you chickened out on me.” Shigeki just pushed him over a little and got under the sheets. Before he was even settled in, Travis had rolled onto his side and tossed an arm over Shigeki’s stomach. Shigeki raised an eyebrow at him, but he just pressed his face back into his neck… and within a minute, he was snoring.

Hell, he didn’t know what he expected. He’d seen how exhausted he was in the shower. Looking over at the bedside clock, he saw it was a little past 530. He settled in more, getting comfortable. Rest for a few hours, then maybe they’d get something to eat before they started the next Death Drive game. He rested one of his hands on Travis’ back, and closed his eyes. Even resting his eyes for a while would be better than nothing, right?


	2. Travis' POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis does some thinking on the way home

On a dead stretch of I-20, an hour into his 800-mile ride, Travis stops cold and pulls bike over on the shoulder. He leans over, rests his forearms on the handlebars, and stares through the asphalt in front of him while he thinks about what he’s going home to.

Or who, actually.

He’s spent about 5 hours total with Badman. Enough time to fight, beat Electric Thunder Tiger II, and then tell him where the cereal is and that he can use the shower in the trailer. Not really enough time to get to know a guy you might have to spend the next six weeks around, and that was assuming that all the games were this easy to get... or that the owners weren’t further away.

The _Life Is Destroy_ Death Ball sits heavily in his jacket. He’d stuffed it straight into his pocket after he and Kamui had retrieved from that dungeon, and had taken a power nap in the shade of an old gas station before hitting the road. Now, though…

Now he had to think about how he was going to spend two months living with a guy who hated him. It wasn’t like Badman was only going to show up to play the Death Drive and then peace out; he’d made that much clear when he’d unrolled a beat-to-shit sleeping bag 15 feet away from his front door.

Not that he blamed him. If it’d been _him _who’d finally tracked someone like that down after seven years, he’d want to make damn sure the guy didn’t fuck off in the middle of the night and leave him back at square one.

And Badman sure fucking _looked _like a guy who’d been living rough. It made sense; Travis had gone out of his way to be hard to find, going off the grid almost completely. Hell, he’d even replaced his consoles and video game accounts. Having to give up his progress in his games had kind of sucked, but it was worth it for the piece of mind, in case at some point in the past he’d shared his name with someone and they connected it to his profile. It would have taken some serious footwork and even more serious skill to find him.

Anyway, playing through some of his favorites again had been fun, but that wasn’t what was important now. Right now, there was a tough son of a bitch squatting in front of his trailer that had to be dealt with. But…

Despite appearances, Travis Touchdown was a little more chill than he used to be. Back when he was 27, he probably would have sliced Badman’s fucking head off before even hearing why he was there. But now? Now, the boredom had started to set in. Every day the same routine: Wake up, hit the bathroom, pour some cereal, then either game by himself or stream until he finally felt like he could pass out again. Some days even pushing himself as hard as he could in training wasn’t enough, and he felt the lack of a good fight like an ache in his bones. When he heard Badman’s old shitbox car scream up out of the woods, a little thrill of excitement shot through him. He could practically _see _the bloodlust on Shigeki while he watched him psyche himself up. And he could certainly appreciate slamming a beer before heading into a fight. After hearing Badman shout his name and challenge him to a fight to the death?

Every hair on his body had stood on end, and it had taken all his composure to not launch himself at him like some rookie. Even thinking back on it now set his heart beating a little faster. It seemed like Badman was everything he’d been waiting for, even going to far as to drop a fucking Death Ball right into his lap. If he hadn’t been too busy getting dragged into one of his favorite fucking games of all time, he’d have pinched himself.

Maybe he could convince Badman to at least spar with him regularly. That was supposed to be a relationship builder, right? They’d just… have to try really hard not to give into the urge to turn each other into a meat crayon. It seemed like a great idea; They’d probably end up too tired to fight for real, and Travis wouldn’t have to worry about getting killed in his sleep. Plus, people couldn’t hate each other too much after spending time kicking each other’s asses every day, right?

He started the bike back up and guided it into the right lane, a little more confident that this new arrangement wasn’t going to totally suck. He could pick up a case of beer on the way home, maybe introduce Badman to some REAL lager (Homerun? Fucking really, man?), get to talking a little-

No, scratch that. Talking was probably a shitty idea, since Badman didn’t seem to have anything going on in his life besides chain smoking cigars and hunting him down.

So maybe talking was out. But there had to be other stuff people could do together, right? Bishop and him would get hammered and marathon anime, but Badman didn’t seem like the Bizarre Jelly type. Slogging through a baseball game might work to get him in the same room for a while, but then again, he was pretty sure Badman had been kicked out for being a huge alcoholic, so a baseball game might just piss him off instead. What the hell else went with beer? Food, he guessed. He could bring back some fast food and then at least they’d be eating together. They’d found a cool little ramen stall in the last game, and it had been pretty nice to chill with the guy while they were eating, even though the stall had committed the unforgivable sin of not serving beer. (He’d had to try damned hard to keep himself from asking for one of Badman’s. He wasn’t sure he could take the disappointment if they turned out to be just for show inside the Death Drive). Badman had busted his balls a little for the way he pronounced “Itadakemas”, but it had seemed pretty good-natured, and his eyes had crinkled up in a really nice way behind his mask.

Travis had gone back to slurping down his ramen pretty quick after that, not wanting him to see his how his jaw had dropped a little. He hadn’t been expecting him to look so… _nice_. Travis had been sneaking glances at Badman since they’d gotten dropped bare-ass naked into the game, of course. He wasn’t about to let a well-built bod go unappreciated. Badman was all powerful slabs of muscle gone soft around the edges, covered head to toe in tattoos and thick, soft looking body hair. And he had seen _covered_ for himself. The mask had seemed a little weird at first, but had quickly grown on him, and now he found himself itching to see what was underneath. Even his hairstyle, simple as it was, suited him. It was pretty similar to Thunder Ryu’s, though, so…

He was probably just biased. Maybe he had a thing for older men. Y’know, minus the maybe.

It might be interesting to kick back with the beers and ask him what was up with all the tattoos. They were all in different stages of fading, and didn’t seem to have a cohesive theme, so that was a lot of separate trips to the tattoo parlor. There had to be a story or ten there, right? And he’d never met a guy that didn’t like to talk about their tattoos.

Revving the engine a little, he picked up speed on the empty stretch of highway. He still had at least 11 hours of interstate ahead of him, but he was a little more confident in the ‘after’.

Twelve and a half goddamn hours later, Travis pulls up next to Badman’s car, nearly shearing off his own mirror and hoping Badman hadn’t seen. He cursed a little louder than necessary and grabbed the bags of beer out of the saddlebags on his bike. They’d need a little time in the fridge to settle, but there was plenty of time. It was only a little after 5 now anyway, and Travis’ body was screaming for some rest or some food or both. He winced at a particularly sharp stomach cramp and breathed out slowly, trying not to think about how he’d just driven for over 800 miles on a burger and a nap. He stuffed the beers in the fridge, grabbed the cereal off the top, and shoveled a few handfuls into his mouth to silence his stomach while his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness. A rectangle of light on the other side of the trailer told him Badman was in the shower, and smelling his t-shirt, Travis decided that that sounded like a great idea. He washed down his cereal with a few gulps of milk (because fuck it, it was still his house and it didn’t look like Badman had had any, anyway) and started towards his bedroom. He figured he’d take a nap, grab a quick shower, and see if Badman was in a good enough mood to hang out.

That was the plan, anyway.

What actually happened, was that Travis (ever the maker of good decisions) decided to steal a quick look at Badman through the door. Travis, in all his wisdom, had never gotten around to buying a shower liner, and relied on a thick towel to stop his bathroom from being an inch deep in water every time he bathed. Right now, though, he was patting himself on the back and enjoying a great view of Badman’s ass while he lathered up his hair.

Really, he couldn’t get a much better view even if Badman had been posing for him: Thickly corded muscle ran from Badman’s neck to his powerful biceps and back, and even though his lats were a little lost under a later of fat, he could till see thick muscle moving languidly in his ass and legs as he shifted to rinse his hair under the showerhead. Travis tensed briefly as Badman turned, sure he was going to ruin the moment by getting his ass beat for peeping, but Badman kept his eyes closed awhile the water cleared the shampoo away, sluicing over his shoulders and catching suds in the thick hair over his broad, soft pecs and stomach.

Something in Travis’ exhausted brain finally let go, and he started stripping before he’d even realized he’d made a decision. Fuck the nap, he was getting in that shower with Badman _now. _

Badman was still absorbed with rinsing his hair, and Travis made his move. He had some half-baked plan in his head to lay on some one liner or another and get Badman into his bed ASAP (or failing that, getting on his knees in the shower stall), but he’d failed to take something into account.

As soon as he wrapped his arms around Badman’s chest, pressed himself against his back, the hot water hit him, and he’d never felt so heavy as the last few days of driving, walking, driving, arguing, and _driving _caught up to him like a semi catches up to a moped in the fast lane. Travis barely registered whatever angry noises Badman was making, not in any position to be parsing _language _right now. He made what he probably thought was a soothing noise. “Relax, man, it’s just me.” “Yeah, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Badman was trying to shift now, and Travis wasn’t having that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so comfortable.

He rested his chin on Badman’s shoulder and pressed against his face a little, cheek to stubbly cheek. He turned to nose at his neck, and it occurred to him, briefly, that Badman wasn’t wearing his mask, but the thought was half-formed and left just as quickly as it had come. He was more concerned with keeping Badman exactly where he was, and keeping his hand comfortably on Badman’s pec.

Badman went quiet for a minute, and finally started to relax a little, while Travis dozed off for what only felt like a few minutes, answering things he couldn’t really remember now. It had been long enough for the water to start to get chilly, though, and Badman told him as much. He reached across to shut the water off, and reluctantly untangled himself from Badman, who stepped out of the shower and passed a towel to where Travis was leaving heavily against the wall. They spent a few minutes quietly drying off before Travis blearily remembered his sunglasses, which would _definitely _break in the washer if he forgot again.

Leaving Badman to finish his business in the bathroom, Travis melted into his bed, finally able to throw the bedspread over his legs and relax. He never appreciated his bed as much as when he came home from a long trip. Stretching out languidly, he listened to the soft movement in the other room, and frowned when the noise stopped without any sign of Badman. He waited a little longer, a blush starting to creep up his chest, when Badman finally appeared from the hall, sans boxers.

_Nice_.

Trying not to let his prior worry show, he patted the bedspread next to him and said something he thought was probably suitably snarky, but Badman just pushed Travis over to give himself enough room to get under the covers with him. Long past any kind of shyness, at least for now, Travis shifted enough to wrap an arm around Badman, and slept.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting through this week was taking every ounce of patience Travis had, and despite his more mellow outlook these days, that still wasn’t a hell of a lot. Even the heavy drone of the rain on the roof of the trailer wasn’t enough to soothe his frayed nerves.

It had started out well enough. He’d woken up at around midnight after he’d rashly decided to join Badman in the shower, pleasantly surprised that not only had Badman not turned him into a pretzel, but that the other man was actually snoring with his arm wrapped around Travis.

He’d missed that. Being close to another person, hearing their heart beating and his head rising and falling with their breathing. He’d sighed and turned a little more towards Badman, pressing his face a little further into the crook of his neck and throwing his right leg over Badman’s. Badman stirred a little at this; and Travis paused to see if he’d go back to snoring. His stomach gave him away though, actually growling loudly enough for him to hear. Badman heard it too, apparently, because he stretched his arms over his head, leaving the small of Travis’ back cold.

Badman sat up, yawning wide enough for his jaw to pop, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Travis was looking intently at him, eyes adjusting to the darkness and waiting to see what he’d do. He was nervous, now, uncertain of how Badman would act when they didn’t have the excuse of being tired. Badman turned to him, opened his mouth, closed it again. He rubbed a big hand over his mouth, and finally broke the silence.

“You wanna go get something to eat?”

Travis nodded immediately, glad to have something to talk about that wasn’t _them._ They got dressed while discussing their late-night dinner options, and decided on a fast food chain about 15 minutes away. Travis was lacing up his shoes when Shigeki said something about clearing off the seat in the car, and Travis looked at him, eyebrows knitting together. Huh? Why did he have to clear off the seat…?

Oh. Right. The Schpeltiger was a great ride, but it wasn’t built for two people.

Riding in Badman’s car shouldn’t make him nervous. What the hell was his problem? They were past the “Drive him out to a field and kill him” stage in their… partnership, so he had nothing to worry about. That didn’t settle little knot in his stomach, though.

He heard the car door shut, and shook his head hard to clear it. Right. Badman would be wondering what was taking him so long. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get it into an acceptable shape without gel.

When Travis got outside, Badman was already in the car, cigar smoke trailing out of the open window. Travis walked to the passenger side and got in, buckling his seatbelt. The silence was killing him. He looked at the dashboard, trying to remember if it was socially acceptable to fuck with someone’s radio. Badman must have seen him looking, because he sighed and ashed his cigar out. “Radio’s been busted for the past coupl’a months. Sorry. I keep meaning to get it fixed, but…”

It didn’t need finishing. Travis figured Badman had been too busy looking for him to do a _lot _of things.

Travis shrugged, made a noise that might have meant anything but hopefully sounded like “Yeah, that’s fine”. Badman shrugged and started the car. The engine was surprisingly powerful considering the state of the body, and Travis felt the roar of it in his chest. He relaxed a little. At least the noise would help fill the silence. Otherwise he felt like it might smother them both.

Once they got on the main highway, the quiet started getting to him again. He was getting uncomfortable for another reason, now, feeling too vulnerable sitting in the passenger seat with no control over the car. He took a deep breath. It was just Badman.

Why couldn’t he calm down?

He looked over the stretch of dashboard in front of him, trying to find _anything _to talk about to distract himself. There was just a picture of Badgirl, though, posing happily with a can of beer at what might have been a college sport meetup.

Fuck him, of _course _the only thing in this car was a picture of her.

Guilt settled heavily in his guts, cozying up to the anxiety, and he started wondering if he didn’t deserve whatever he got if Badman decided to beat the shit out of him after all.

He knew what wanting revenge was like. Remembered killing Batt and Speed Buster and even Jeane, as fucked up as she was.

He wondered what would have happened to him if he had had to wait almost a decade for his revenge. Knowing that the fucks who’d killed Bishop and Ryu were still out there, living while Travis had to move through an emptier life that should have held people he loved. Sleeping in a cold bed, no one to even share his time with. Grief gripped his heart painfully, and he looked down into his lap. Fuck, no. He wasn’t going to cry in front of Badman, especially when they hadn’t said anything to each other since getting in the car.

The engine cutting out startled him, and he jerked his head up to look at Badman.

“We’re here. You sleeping again?”

Travis swallowed thickly, trying to get himself back under control. “Nah, just… zoning out, I guess.” He looked through the windshield at the brightly lit restaurant, wondering if he could still eat with his appetite thoroughly destroyed. He sees Badman looking at him from the corner of his eye, and all at once he needs to get the fuck out of this car before he suffocates. He’s unbuckled and walking towards the door by the time Badman gets out, and he doesn’t look back to see his expression. He can’t handle thinking about how Badman might feel about him right now.

They’d stayed inside to eat, not talking much after they dug in. The place was quiet, mostly, the only other customers being some college kids and a few guys who looked like they’d just gotten out of the bar. After a while, the soft noises and bright fluorescent lights started to calm him down, letting a little pressure off the vice in his chest. Not much longer after that he had Badman had finished their extremely late dinner, and it was back in the car. The drive back home was uneventful, Travis’ exhaustion starting to creep in again even after sleeping for so long.

They got back to the trailer in what felt like minutes, and he had his hand on the door when he realized Badman wasn’t behind him. He turned and saw Badman laying out his sleeping bag, apparently getting ready to settle in for the night.

Why was he going to sleep out here when they’d been in bed together an hour ago? Nothing had changed in that time, at least outwardly. What made it different now? He should just… invite him back in, right?

Still, he found himself hesitating.

“You… you gonna sleep out here?” Badman gave a grunt and a nod, kicking off his boots. “Oh.”

He should shut up and go inside already. Badman was a grown-ass man, he could make his own decisions. And if that decision was to sleep on the ground instead of joining Travis inside, well. He’d just have to deal with it. But instead, he kept talking.

“Alright then, uh… Sleep good.” Badman just gave him a thumbs up, not looking his way.

Travis finally stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. He didn’t know what the fuck he wanted from Badman, and he didn’t know how they had gone back to being strangers again so quickly, or how to fix it.

He went to his room and collapsed face first into his bed, not even bothering to take his boots off.

After the fight that Doppelganger freak, the rest of the week continued like that. He and Badman barely saw each other outside of meals, despite living 20 fucking feet away from each other, and there was just as much distance between them now as there had been when he’d left to find the Death Ball. It almost seemed worse, now. Travis felt his heart twist a little when he remembered waking up next to Badman, sharing a bed with someone for the first time in ages, how _warm _he’d been. The last two days had been the worst, Badman having decided that sitting in his car when he wasn’t following up with his own sources was better than being in the trailer. He couldn’t even distract himself by planning the next Death Ball hunt because he couldn’t get a lead on who had the fucking thing.

So here he was: Stuck in his trailer, alone, and having made zero progress on anything that mattered to him: Getting to know Badman better, finding more death balls, and not being fucking miserable.

He propped his elbows on the desk, face in his hands.

This totally fucking sucked, for an entirely different reason than he’d anticipated when he’d first realized how long Badman was going to be staying.

It had taken so little to remind him how touch-starved he was, too. Just having Badman put a hand on his side had been like a balm, and now it looked like it wasn’t going to happen again. He wondered if that wouldn’t be for the best.

People he got involved with that way had a shitty habit of dying on him.

Bishop’s death had been horrible. Murdered in his backroom by a bunch of fuckwits and decapitated. Sure, Badman could hold his own in a fight, but that had been what he’d thought about Ryu too, and he was just as dead as Bishop.

Travis took a deep breath to calm himself. None of that was going to help him now. Trying to clear his thoughts, he focused on the rain instead. It had started about an hour ago, blown in on a cold front, and was now thundering down on the roof of his trailer. The noise was soothing, and he idly wondered if Badman was watching it from inside his car.

A loud string of curses reached him over the noise of the rain, and Travis got up in time to see Badman run from his soaked sleeping bag to his car, which was refusing to open. Taking pity on him after watching him pat his pockets fruitlessly for a minute, Travis leaned out the door and called out to him.

“Hey old man! Come inside before you drown out there!”

He didn’t wait for an answer, retrieving a towel from the bathroom and passing it to Badman. He looked like hell; soaked to the skin and covered in mud. He must have rolled into it trying to get out of his sleeping bag.

“Have you been in the rain this whole time?”

Badman took off his socks, leaving them in a wet pile by the door, and walked towards the bathroom with Travis trailing behind.

“I took something to help me sleep earlier. I guess it worked too well”. He gestured to himself. Travis thought he still looked exhausted, like maybe he needed about 12 more hours of sleep and a cup of coffee. Badman looked at him for a minute, then huffed something under his breath and started stripping. Travis’ eyebrows went up, and before he could think of whether he should look away Badman had sat down heavily on the floor of the shower, leaning back against the wall and letting the water rinse some of the dirt off him.

Travis’ mouth went a little dry, and his throat clicked when he swallowed. Badman looked like he was ready to pass out again, not even bothering to wash himself. Taking a deep breath, Travis started to undress, and once again slipped into the shower stall behind him, pushing him forward a little to make room.

Badman grunted, sounding a little annoyed, until Travis pulled his back to his chest and started rubbing soap into the think hair covering his chest and stomach. He sighed a little, pulling his head back towards Travis’ shoulder and turning to look at him as best as he could with the awkward angle.

“You don’ hafta do this” Badman gestured to himself, a little weakly. Travis swallowed thickly. Hoped he wasn’t fucking everything up again. “I want to.” He said, and let the statement hang in the air like a live grenade. He continued helping Badman bathe when the other man didn’t complain, and Badman shifted again, getting comfortable. He started with Badman’s hair, thick and dark with feathery gray at the temples. It was the same as washing his own hair, really. Lather. Scrub. Rinse.

His chest was a little different. Badman had a forest of hair on his pecs and stomach, and he tried to even out his breathing while he scrubbed the mud out of it. Badman settled a little more into Travis’ chest, and mumbled a little. “Feels nice.” Travis’ heart was beating hard in his chest now, and he didn’t know if it was from the closeness or the _want_. He lathered up again, ran his hands up and down Badman’s thighs. There wasn’t much mud here; most of it had come off when Badman took off the jeans, but Travis could feel the chill of the rain sunk into Badman’s muscles.

He wondered if his joints ached in weather like this. Wondered if he’d let Travis help him with that too.

Badman was clean, now, but Travis still had a dilemma: Badman’s clothes were in a wet pile, and Travis didn’t have anything he could wear. The easiest thing to do would be to just let Badman sleep off whatever he’d taken in his bed, than have him find his keys and grab some clean clothes to put on. Travis wouldn’t be joining him in the room, though.

He didn’t know if he could handle him pulling away again. Acting like nothing happened.

Coaxing the man up, Travis dried him off as best he could, but Badman was already having trouble holding himself up. He led him back to the bedroom, Badman following obediently, and got him settled in. He flicked the light off, closed the door, and spent the rest of the night on the couch.

Travis didn’t get much sleep that night, with Badman so close by. He wanted to join Badman in the bed again more than anything, wanted to wrap his arms around him and be held. How had he been spoiled so quickly by a little affection? He’d been fine this long, hadn’t he?

Sylvia didn’t care for being held, or holding him. He’d only asked once.

Fuck this. He needed to distract himself.

A quick trip to the store later, and Travis had everything he needed to make an actual breakfast. He wasn’t a professional chef or anything, but he was decent, and it demanded his full attention instead of getting lost in his own thoughts. He was wiping out the pancake pan and getting ready to crack a few eggs when Badman wandered in, bleary eyed in the midmorning sun. Travis’ eyes dropped to the towel around his waist, and he swallowed, trying to keep his eyes on Badman’s. He was saying something to him.

“Huh?”

Badman grimaced a little. “I asked if you could go grab me some clean clothes. They’re right in the trunk of my car. My keys should be in my sleeping bag; I think they fell out of my pocket last night.”

Travis nodded dumbly, and before he could stop himself, he asked “Why don’t you just bring all your stuff inside?” and froze. Fuck. That was too much.

Badman blinked again, opened his mouth, closed it. “Are you… okay with that? I’m not trying to overstay my welcome.”

Travis almost busted out laughing at how ridiculous it was. Almost a month ago he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Badman and he’d busted into his trailer and his life, and now that Travis was asking him to stay he was getting shy on him? What the hell was _with _this guy?

He kept himself under control, though. “Yeah, I mean there’s no reason for you to sleep outside or keep your shit out there. I have the space, you know?”

He watched Badman’s Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. The silence seemed to stretch on forever until Badman coughed a little and finally answered. “Yeah, that’s uh… that’d be great. Thanks.”  
They stood in silence for a few moments, Travis relaxing a little until he realized that a) Badman was still in an undersized towel and b) he was supposed to be grabbing his clothes.

He hurried outside, catching his foot a little on the doorframe. Badman had been right about the keys being tangled in the sleeping bag, and he powerwalked over to the trunk to scoop out as many clothes as he could. It wasn’t hard, there were probably only 4 shirts and some boxers. It was good that he’d thought to hang up Badman’s jeans to dry; they’d have to take him shopping at some point, or they’d be doing a lot of laundry.

He carried the pile in, dumping it on the bed and getting back to cooking. He was just getting the eggs ready when Badman came back, wearing a clean gray tank top and dark boxers. He stood in the hall awkwardly for a minute, before clearing his throat and asking if he needed any help. Travis looked over his counters for a moment. Pancakes were staying warm in the oven, and the eggs were in a pan. All that really needed to be done was to put out plates and make coffee, and he told Badman as much. He nodded, and walked into the kitchen, and stopped again. Travis huffed a little laugh under his breath and pointed to the cabinet with the disposable place settings, and Badman quickly busied himself with gathering them up and putting them on the table in front of the couch. He came back soon after, and busied himself with Travis’ ancient coffee maker. He’d bought it at a thrift store ages ago, but it still worked so why replace it?

Travis loaded up two plates with food and passed one to Badman, who looked a little surprised as he took it. “Oh.” He had a weird look on his face that Travis couldn’t really make out. “Thanks, Touchdown. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me.” Travis shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Of course I made you some. What am I gonna do, eat it all by myself?” He tried to lighten the mood a little. He remembered the last time someone had cooked for him. A rainy morning at the end of Fall a few years back had seen him waking up in Bishop’s bed, hungover as hell and sore in all the right places. He’d practically floated into the kitchen on the waves of good smells coming from it, and Bishop had busted his balls about still being in bed. They’d eaten together, basking in the warm silence until it was time for Bishop to open the store. That had been the Fall before Santa Destroy’s first snow in 120 years.

He and Badman ate their food in silence, but it felt like the tension of the past week had gone out of it. When they were done, he made plans with Badman to go into town and do some running around to make moving Badman in a little easier. Hit the laundromat, grab him some more clothes, maybe a camping mattress to go under his sleeping bag.

Travis didn’t dare hope that Badman would willingly join him in bed again. The sooner he forgot about it, the sooner he could stop feeling like this. Forget about the hollow feeling in his stomach leaving when he was close to someone who might give a fuck about him.


End file.
